Foong; Or Something Like That

Circumstance dictate that I contrive a mediated response.

Yet unable still, to suppress these thoughts. I crave the fulfillment of a distant past, I obsess over what might have been, I desire that which will never be mine.

And this conflict's driving me insane.

Forgive me for I don't know what I gain,
Alone in this garden of pain,
Enchantment has but one truth;
I weep to have what I fear to lose.